A mage, of all things
by Mr.Crouch'sDaughter
Summary: Cullen's infatuation with mages always gets him into trouble. Before Kirkwall, he met a mage he was destined to kill, but ended up sharing a more intimate... moment with. Now this mage arrives at Haven, together with Fiona. While both pretend nothing ever happened, trouble knows it will find a way to teach them better. No fluffy-puffy bunnies I am afraid. But smut and a story.
1. Payback

_A/N: Dragon Age and all its characters belong to Bioware. I am not making any money out of this. This story actually began as a rather dark one-shot, published elsewhere. But I thought I'd give it another try._

 **A mage, of all things**

 **Chapter One: Payback**

Her body was tensed like a bowstring, covered in a battlemage armour. Her head turned quietly from side to side, the eyes behind the Ferelden helmet probably scanning the area. She couldn't see him, however, hidden in the entrance of the burning house to her right.

The wooden ceiling mad a crackling noise, but it did not disturb him. In fight, his senses were always clear, his mind always calm.

He would kill her, another mage on the list, another abomination stopped. It helped when they wore armour, when you couldn't see behind the helmet, when you didn't see the face that belonged to someone's daughter. Or wife.

He rose his sword and waited until her eyes were focused on the other direction, then with a few quick steps he ambushed her.

As he had almost reached her, she flung around, raising her staff against him, trying to jump to her left. She was too slow, of course, the moment of surprise still on his side and as his body collided with hers, she was swept of her feet and fell to the ground. However, she managed to grab for him before she fell and he lost his balance, crashing right on top of her.

Her fingers hurriedly searched for her staff, but he reached it first, throwing it away. She rose her head and hit it against his, the iron steel of her helmet painfully colliding with his bare skin and he roared, ripping it off her head without a second thought, pressing his sword against her throat.

The mage stopped moving, her eyes glaring at him with hatred.

She had a pretty face, he realised. Long, black hair, messed up now due to the rough fighting and sweating, high cheekbones and light blue eyes. What captivated him most, however, were her lips, not particularly full in shape, but preciously curved. Suddenly, he wanted to press his lips upon them. He didn't know where the thought came from, but it was vividly in his head, his hand grabbing the hair of hers... Maker, he could feel himself harden by the mere thought of it and he hated himself for it. He was a templar, for fuck's sake and she was a mage, the enemy, the cause of all this chaos...

* * *

It wasn't his fault. It was hers. It was because of what her kind had done to him. That demon they had summoned had taunted him, teased him until he had had no other choice but to comply; until his mind had been nothing more but a crumpled mess; until there had been nothing more but desire and moans. He looked at the pretty figure under him and suddenly, he knew that he had to do. He had to repay that, once and for all, repay what her kind had done to him. Right here, right now.

* * *

His sword still at her throat, he bent down and kissed her hungrily, his tongue darting between her lips, his body heavy on her slender figure.

For a second, she appeared to be numbed in shock, then she bit him. He backed up in surprise – he should have guessed – and she hit her elbow right into his face so hard that his nose began to bleed. She used the second of surprise and hit the sword out his hands. He tried to stop her, but it was too late and all it got him was the loss of his fragile balance.

They rolled over the dusty ground, now both unarmed. She was in advantage, because he was so much heavier than her and ended up on top of him. His fingers found a way to her throat, but they didn't choke her, not yet.

It took him a few seconds to realize that his she could feel his lust properly now, sitting above him.

"And I thought templars didn't have that in them," she said.

He let out an angry growl and tried to buck her off, but the grip of her thighs was firm and unforgiving. Then, she started to rub her body against his.

His fingers still lay motionless at her throat.

"Go on, choke me," she said, moving against him mercilessly. "Kill me."

He moaned and she laughed so hard her body shook above him, releasing him from her firm grip. He grabbed her immediately and pinned her down on the ground, kissing her again, while his hands ravished her body, tearing down her armour without any thoughts on her cuts and bruises.

Without it, he could see how slender she really was, with her ribs showing off slightly under her bronze skin. His hands caressed her soft flesh, making her moan against his hair.

He enjoyed it, having control over her even without a sword in his hand and he moved his right hand down her belly, hitting home easily.

Her hand moved under his belt, but he stopped her immediately. He couldn't let her do that. That was what the demon had done, in the beginning. Touched him. Teased him. But never letting him come, oh no. It had waited until he hadn't been able to think of anything else but final release and then, it had spread his legs...

He shook his head shortly. No, he would not think about it. He would pay it back to this mage, he would make her beg and shiver, just as he had begged and shivered. An eye for an eye.

He opened his belt and breeches, not bothering to take his clothes off completely.

He looked at her, her eyes gleaming with rage and lust and with one, hard thrust entered her – and _oh Maker_ , she was so hot and wet that for a second he believed he'd come immediately.

"Do it," she said, as he kept still inside her.

And he did. She let out a hissing sound he thought was a "yes", but he wasn't quite sure.

He had always been gentle with the women before her, but she deserved none of it. Moreover, she didn't want it. The harder and faster he moved, the louder and more seductive her moans grew. It blurred the world out completely; the sound of fighting from afar, the smell of the burning house behind them, the screams of mages, templars, all of it.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked. "Tell me you like it. Tell me what you want." His voice sounded hoarse, not a little bit like him.

She didn't. Her eyes were fixed on his, but instead of talking, she just grinned at him.

He stopped - it took him all of his control, but her reaction was just as he had expected. As he had hoped.

"What are you doing?" she asked sharply.

"Say it," he commanded, looking at her.

"What?"

"Tell me you want me. Tell me," he ordered.

Hatred shone in her eyes as she glanced at him, yet instead of replying, she tried to roll her hips against him.

"No," he said and moved his hands to her waist, pinning her to the ground.

She let out a cry of despair, wriggling under him. He enjoyed it. Teasing her even further, his fingers moved over her bare thighs slowly.

Sweat glistened on her forehead and he could see how she bit her lips, trying to endure the procedure.

Finally, she gave up. "I want you. Now!" she shouted out in frustration.

It weren't the words he had told her, but it was enough. He kissed her hard on the mouth and continued. And Andraste preserved him, she felt so good, her flesh soft against his touch, her mouth pressed hard against his own, her legs spread wide open to serve him that he just couldn't keep his pace slow and steady as he had wanted to.

"Oh maker," he moaned, feeling himself tighten inside her.

Her hands grabbed for his shoulders. "Oh please...," she let out, her voice filled with unbelievable desire.

It sent him over the edge immediately and he came with one last moan, the mage following him right after. He collapsed on top of her, gasping for air.

* * *

There was a moment of momentarily peace and silence. A moment in which they both just lay there, panting.

Then, with a quick move, she rolled on her side and grabbed the sword he had lost ages ago.

Before he could stop her, her left had grabbed his neck, her right pressing the cold steel to his throat.

"I wanted to kill you," she said, her voice now sounding very casual. "But you had such a gorgeous ass, I wondered if the rest of the package could match up. Now that I know, I might go back to my initial attempt, don't you think?"

He looked at her, the lust in her eyes replaced by the former contempt.

"Do it," he said. And meant it.

There was a glimmer of surprise in her eyes. "You want to die?"

"What's there left for us to live for? The circles are destroyed. The templars have been corrupted. You and me, we are memories of a world that ceased to exist."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "I never knew templars were philosophers," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Do it," he repeated.

She didn't. She flung the sword away, as far as she could manage, still laying on the ground.

"Get off me," she hissed.

He complied and while he nestled with his belt, she picked up her scattered clothes from the ground, her legs shaking with every step she took. Her back was covered in dirt and a little blood. He wondered if she even realised it.

He gave her the time she needed to redress, pretending to be fumbling with the rest of his clothes. Then, he just stood there, looking at the ground in confusion.

What in the name of the maker had just happened?

She picked up her staff and glanced at him. "Next time you're dead, _templar_ ," she said, spit out before him and hurried into the woods.

Cullen turned on his heels, suddenly feeling very sick. He needed to get out of here.

 _Fast._

 **A/N: If you have any suggestions, want to tell me whether you liked it or not, or want to point out mistakes, please take a little time and review. Thank you.**


	2. A mage

A/N: Thanks for the fav and the follows. I know a lot of people don't like OC fanfiction, but I promise this one is neither going to be a Mary-Sue, nor the hero of it all.

 **Chapter 2: A mage**

The mage, named Ava Miller, because her family had been farmers, were still farmers and would probably always be farmers, with the exception of her great-grandmother who had been a mage and had passed the talent onto her, was not a warrior.

Her skills lay in healing and supporting only and that was why she had once upon a time slept with a templar. Just to save her ass, truly. And maybe a little bit because that special templar had been gorgeous; deadly and gorgeous. Well, it had worked out back then.

It was also the reason why she had joined Fiona, because the rebel mages could do with a little more defence and a little less warfare.

Had she known that these two decisions would come back to haunt her, she would have cast it aside with a laugh.

That was until an elven mage who bore a mark of the Fade had come to save the rebel mages from themselves and offered them to join her as free allies; before she had followed Fiona and her fellow mages through the gates of Haven, just to see the knight-commander was the exact same templar she had encountered so many years ago.

Fate sure was cruel.

As she saw him, there was a second in which she didn't move, couldn't in fact and that almost blew her cover.

"Ava, is something wrong?" Susannah asked, who was walking right beside her.

"What? No, nothing," she replied, but her friend knew better than to accept such a blunt lie. Her eyes followed her gaze and she herself stopped in her movements.

"That's Cullen Rutherford," she said, her expression a mixture of astonishment and detest. "How did he end up here?"

Ava shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Someone probably found him useful."

"Why? Do they plan to lock us up and torture us?"

Ava looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard about Kirkwall?" Susannah asked.

"Of course, but..."

"Ser Cullen Rutherford was the knight-captain of the templars back then. And you know what they did to our kind."

Of course she did. The stories of violation, abuse and torture had travelled the land quickly, making sure every mage steered clear of the forsaken town. Still, some of the stories had been hard to believe

"Well, I guess we'll better stay out of his way then," Ava said.

"Or get into his way and blast him off his feet with a fireball," her friend remarked darkly.

* * *

They hurried past the gates and as they reached the village, Ava took a deep breath.

He hadn't seen her – how should he, hidden well between dozens of her own – but she had almost given herself away. And judging what Susannah had said, none of the mages would be happy if they found out one of their own had been involved with that particular templar, even if it had just been to save her life.

He was still gorgeous, though, probably even more than back then. Yet, he seemed a lot calmer than in that ruined city.

Maybe time had been kind to him. After all, it had been a lot kinder to his kind than hers. It mattered not, of course. She didn't plan to catch up with him, for some kind of happy reunion.

* * *

Her plan didn't work out, of course. Haven was attacked only a few days after the mages arrived and she found herself battling for her life against a _fucking_ dragon. Well, maybe more running away from it than fighting it.

Its nasty roars were echoed from the burning roofs, the screams of the inhabitants tingling in her ears and then, all of sudden, a familiar voice right behind her shouted: "Back up to the church!"

If she hadn't been so overwhelmed by the flying death above her, she might have just lowered her head and ran, but the fire spitting beast upon her had wiped out all her senses entirely.

So she turned – and there he was. A scar ran over his cheek, a scar that hadn't been there then and as he turned his head, his eyes lit up in surprise – and shock.

Before he could say anything, her brain kicked back in and she turned on her heels, following Susannah back up to the church of Haven, running as if the devil was behind her. And it was – only to her, it wasn't the dragon anymore. The dragon appeared like a little annoyance, in contrast to him.

At the church, she dragged Susannah into a corner, hiding, mumbling something about "not ending up as the spare parts". Later, at the camp, she did as well, watching him in the shadows as he carried the Inquisitor back into the camp. The little elf had survived the fight with their attacker miraculously, but the mage wasn't exactly sure if she was to be called be lucky. Whatever the seeker and the others believed the elf was destined to be, it sure implied a lot of dangers.

Yet, she followed her to Skyhold – it would have been easy to vanish on the way, take her stuff and run, but she owned Fiona and wherever Fiona was going, she would be sure to follow. Besides, that elf impressed her. And she had no other place to go on the whole damn earth.

* * *

And Skyhold was huge, huge enough for a woman to hide. At least, that was what she thought. Honestly, she didn't think he'd really search for her – rather avoid her, just like she avoided him. She was wrong.

Three days after the Inquisitor had announced she would fight for order, he found her on the battlements, which had turned into her favourite spot at whole Skyhold, until that moment.

She knew it was him even before she turned around. His walk hadn't changed since back then.

"I thought you were dead," he said.

It wasn't the best start for a conversation, but at least, it was an honest one.

She turned and looked at him. "As did I."

He raised his hand to the back of his head, as if he was embarrassed. The gesture surprised her. As she had met him, he had been vicious, ferocious – now, if he hadn't been wearing armour and a sword, he could have been mistaken for a Ferelden noble. Calm. _Polite_.

"You shouldn't have searched for me," she said as he didn't continue.

"I wanted to make sure I wasn't mistaken," he replied.

"And? Does it calm you you weren't?"

"Not exactly," he replied and looked at her. "You said you would kill me the next time you'd meet me."

"I think people will notice if I throw the knight-commander off the wall," she replied calmly.

"You have every reason to. What I did to you..."

"Wasn't even half as bad as what your fellow templars did to my kind in Kirkwall."

He stared at her in surprise. "You were..."

"I wasn't. But the stories spread quickly."

"I am sorry... What happened in Kirkwall..." he started.

"Did you order them?" she asked.

"What? No. No, I had no idea."

She laughed out sarcastically. "You were the knight-captain and had no idea?"

He avoided her gaze. "I didn't think templars were capable of that."

" _You_ didn't think templars were capable of that? So, if I had told you to stop back then, you would have?" she asked.

"Would you?"

"I would have killed you," she replied honestly.

"So would I. But I don't believe I would have continued... Well, at least I hope so," he said.

She shook her head. "What's done is done," she said sharply. "There's no need to ponder it now." She looked at him. "I would prefer if our past wouldn't be spread out through all Skyhold, though. I am with the rebel mages. If they find out I let you have me, I am as good as dead."

"They don't trust me," he stated.

"Mages will never trust templars again. Just as templars don't trust mages. And you... You have a reputation since Kirkwall," she said. "I am seriously surprised none of them tried to cut your throat while you slept."

"Are you giving me a warning?" he asked sharply, for a second sounding like the templar he had been.

"I am no danger to you. I never have been," she said.

"Of course you have," he said and with those words, left her standing there.

It wasn't true, of course. She wondered if he really didn't know how easily he could have overpowered her, back then, or if he simply didn't want to. How would he able to justify his weakness, letting her live?

Still, meeting him was so very confusing. As she strolled back to the fortress, Susannah caught up on her, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Why should it be?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ava shook her head. "It's nothing. Just been thinking."

But it wasn't nothing. Ambivalent feelings never were, even more when you were a mage irritated by a templar.

 **Next chapter: Smut. And questions. If you liked it, or disliked it, have any suggestions or vice versa, please leave a review.**


	3. Beast of burden

_A/N: Part of the Cassandra/Cullen dialogue is the same as in the game and therefore, belongs to Bioware and EA._

 _Thank you for the fav & follows! As before, I appreciate every fav, follow or review. _

**Chapter 3: Beast of burden**

The Inquisitor conquered the Hinterlands and Ava joined a troop to secure the camps.

The Inquisitor went to the Storm coast and came back with a Qunari and his chargers and Susannah fell secretly in love with the mysterious, yet pretty blunt leader.

The Inquisitor went to the Fallow Mire and Cullen argued with Cassandra.

"You've asked for my opinion and I've given it. Why would you expect it to change?" Cassandra asked, her arms folded before her chest.

"I expect you to keep your word. It's relentless. I can't..." he began, but the woman interrupted him.

"You give yourself too little credit."

Credit, he thought. Credit for what? With lyrium, he was functioning way better than this. The Inquisition had been Cassandra's idea, why in the name of the Maker was she stopping him now from giving it his best?

"If I am unable to fulfil what vows I've kept than nothing good has come of this! Would you rather save face than admit that you've been mistaken by taking me with you?" he asked, no, shouted.

"Your work is excellent. The Inquisitor agrees."

He let out a frustrated growl and shook his head. He knew exactly what she was doing; trying to reason with him with the Inquisitor, whom he had sworn to protect; Maker, he once had sworn to protect mages too and what had become of it? Blood and violence and war.

The seeker watched him quietly. "There is something else."

It wasn't the first time Cullen cursed the seeker's attention. "Isn't it enough?" he asked sharply.

"You tell me," she replied and he hated her voice, her calmness, her stubbornness – everything he usually admired about her.

"This is futile," he said and left the door, shutting it with a loud crack.

Of course she was right. Beside the withdrawal, beside the fact that he couldn't fulfil his own standards anymore, there was the mage -...

Suddenly, it occurred to him that he didn't even know her name. He still remembered her naked body under his, her sarcastic grin, her moans, but her name had never bothered him. And he hadn't even thought to ask when he had met her again.

Yet since then, the feverish dreams his withdrawal caused provided another scenario, the one in which he fucked her on the dirty ground, forced her to beg and shiver.

Those dreams were better than the ones of his cage at the tower, of the desire demon, because he was in control, because she was the servant to his lust, not he the toy of a perverted creature.

Those dreams were worse, because his behaviour was vicious, cruel, whilst in the tower, he had mustered all his strength to fight, had tried to remain a good templar, a good man.

Not that it had been any use. The demon had done with him what it wanted, had made him scream when it wanted, beg when it wanted, moan when it wanted.

When he woke up out of them, he wanted nothing more but to pass this on, reverse the roles. And now, the only one he had ever allowed himself to do this to was back, sleeping under the same roof and he could just do it, he could go into her chamber and take her, make her the beast of burden, pass the cruelty on and on and on until it was gone.

No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. The Inquisition was his atonement, if atonement was possible at all. Only how could he carry it out when, night for night, there was this demon in his head, turning him into one of its creatures?

* * *

While the mages had been gone, the nobles had arrived at Skyhold. And with them, rumours. Countless.

Much of them were pretty dull, completely unbelievable, but there was a rumour the Inquisitor had a thing for the other elf (Solas, she thought. Important names must be remembered) which she actually believed, but it was none of her business.

A little later, she heard a rumour the seeker and the knight-commander had gotten into a fight, someone also mentioned something about lyrium. That wasn't her business, either, but mages, templars and lyrium were a web, a circle. Thinking about one led to thinking about the other.

As every mage, she had taken lyrium, but not overwhelmingly often. While some of her kind enjoyed entering the Fade with its help, Ava had never quite understood the fascination. The Fade was often a delusion, sometimes a danger and seldom offered anything that helped you in the real world.

Susannah, who visited the Fade on a regular basis, always laughed at her prejudices and called her a little coward. She said it in a joking manner, but Ava suspected she actually meant it.

And maybe she was a coward. Maybe the Fade was offering world-changing revelations for those brave enough; and maybe dragons made excellent pets. She wanted to find out neither.

She knew templars relied on lyrium too, of course, because she had been trained in a Circle. Yet, she had never had any reason to think about it. The templars had always kept to themselves; their job had been to guard them, not to mingle with them.

And she hadn't any reason to think about it, now. If the knight-commander was in some kind of trouble, the Inquisitor or her advisers would be perfectly capable to take care of that. They were the ones sharing an interest in this, not her.

* * *

Two weeks after their return from the Fallow Mire, Susannah dragged her into the tavern to glance at the Iron Bull secretly, though Ava doubted it was really a secret. From what she had heard, the Qunari was a spy, reading people's thoughts and wishes.

She actually wanted to tell her friend, encourage her to just go over and ask him to take her to his chamber and have her way with her, but that didn't fit Susannah at all. It only fitted her.

She left Susannah and her longing around 11 p.m., tired of her friend's little sighs and all the beer and retired to her chamber, just to find that her chamber wasn't empty.

Right in the middle of the little room stood the knight-commander, dressed in his armour, his sword at his side.

For a second she was sure he'd slay her, right here, right now and drop her body in an icy hole outside the fortress.

But as he stepped forward, she suddenly knew why he was really there, what would happen. Yet, she knew she would be able to stop him this time, not exactly sure why.

Only she didn't. As he grabbed her, she immediately shoved her body against his. Heaven's, he was gorgeous, even though his eyes appeared too red, even though he stumbled a little as he pressed her against the cold wall.

It didn't matter. Her hands gripped for the stupidly big fur he wore around his shoulders and kissed him, allowed him to move his hands all the way up and down her body until touching wasn't enough anymore. She would have liked to see him naked, just for once, but he wasted no time on taking their clothes off. He just removed everything that was in his way.

He took her right there, against the wall, her bare back having a déjà-vu as it rubbed against the stone wall due to his sharp thrusts.

Yet, she didn't care. He was a templar and she hated templars; he was harsh and she wanted his harshness. It was a bittersweet cocktail of feelings too easy to swallow, too hard to resist.

He came with a loud moan, hiding his face at her chest when it was over. As he finally let go off her and she bent down to adjust her clothes, she heard him mumble:

"Maker, I am sorry."

Whether he was apologizing to her or his god, she couldn't make out.

"Yes. Tell that to my back," she replied, trying to catch a glimpse on the damage, failing completely.

"I don't know why I did that," he said and she believed him.

"Maybe I am simply irresistible."

Sarcasm. One thing she was still good at, her judgement obviously already gone down the drain.

"I don't even know your name," he said.

"And? Is it recommended that you know the name of a woman you like to ravish?"

His cheeks reddened immediately and boy, he looked so young for a second, so innocent that she doubted either of their inappropriate encounters had ever really happened.

"I would have left you alone, this time. If you had said a word I would have..."

"Oh, shut it," she replied, because she knew that and because now that the sensation was over, she cursed herself for letting him have her once again.

"Will you tell me?"

She looked at him. "Why? So you can shout it when you jerk off?"

Her voice sounded more hostile than she had intended to.

He turned on his heels immediately, quickly walking towards the door.

"Ava," she said. "My name is Ava."

Why she told him remained a mystery. It made him stop, however, and his eyes found hers.

And she asked the one question that was actually important, more important than her name, the one he had asked only seconds ago:

"Why did you come here?"

"I don't know," he repeated, but his gaze fell to the floor and she knew that he was lying, that he knew very well why he came, that there was something hidden behind his action that wasn't desire, or need, or probably anything nice and sweet.

"This has to stop," she stated. "It's neither right, nor helpful."

"I agree," he said and finally, left.

 **Of course it won't stop - but it won't go on that smoothly. How could it, with the templar-mage-desire-demon conflict?**


	4. Spymasters & Enchanters

**Author's Note:**

Of course, some of the inner circle will appear in this fanfic. However, Ava will not indulge in sweet friendships with them; or even in great conversations. She is, after all, only a soldier, not the Inquisitor. Nevertheless, I really like the characters of DA Inquisition and I wanted to let them be a part of this work of fiction, as well. Thanks for the fav, follow and comment – if you have any suggestions, miss the smut (it will return next chapter, though), like or dislike it, please leave a review.

 **Chapter 4: Spymasters & Enchanters**

It was Susannah who saw her first. As she found Ava near the stables, her eyes were wide as the moon.

"She recruited the First Enchanter!" she yelped out breathlessly.

"What? Who?" Ava asked.

"The Inquisitor! She recruited the First Enchanter."

Ava stood silent. To the rebel mages, the First Enchanter was a symbol of everything they had fought against; a mage desperate to restore the circles and thereby, the boundaries they had broken free off.

"Maybe we should leave," Susannah said. "I mean, they can't force us to stay, can they?"

"I don't know," Ava replied. "But that would be treason on Fiona."

"Better a traitor than being chained up again," Susannah said. "First the knight-commander, now this. I mean, she's a mage, isn't she? Why doesn't she understand how this looks?"

"She's an elf. She's never been a member of a circle. Or part of the rebellion. Besides, I suppose the Inquisition needs all the help it can get." She looked at her friend. "The knight-commander hasn't done anything that affected us yet. Maybe the First Enchanter won't either."

Susannah let out a sarcastic laugh. "Of course not. Now, they need us. But what if that's over?"

"I suppose we can still run, then," Ava said.

The other woman looked at her suspiciously. "You are pretty relaxed about all this."

"Maybe I am just tired of running. Or maybe I don't want to leave Fiona behind."

"What? You're brave now? Noble? You're a farmer's daughter, not a warrior!"

"I am as noble as a donkey would be in these stables. And trust me, I am aware of that," Ava replied. "But I don't have anywhere else to go. Or anything else to do. If it's different for you, I say run. If not, you can just as well stay here. The First Enchanter isn't more dangerous than running into a group of templars when you leave."

Susannah looked at her, and her features went softer. "Maybe you're right. For now."

"Maybe I am," Ava said, grateful they had laid down their argument. At least, at the moment.

"So, do we visit the tavern this evening?" her friend asked, a glimmer in her eyes.

"Heaven's, Susannah, why don't you just tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"I don't know – that you wanna see his other horn?"

For a second, Susannah remained speechless, then, she burst out in laughter.

"Damn, are you giving me dating advice now? You of all people? We know each other for what... three years and you've never even shown the slightest hint of interest in anyone. That doesn't really speak for your expertise."

 _You'd be surprised,_ Ava thought, but of course, didn't say it.

"I suppose you're right. I m afraid I have to decline, though. There's nothing interesting in this tavern for me."

Susannah shook her head, grinning. "There's plenty in the tavern for any woman out there. Really, I wonder, what your taste is exactly. Either it's out of your league, or it's completely perverted.

"Maybe it's both," Ava joked.

The joke, however, was actually on her.

* * *

Cassandra Pentaghast wasn't a woman who gave up easily. Neither was she a woman who settled for pussyfooting. Even less when she thought one of her recruits held a secret from her. And since Cullen Rutherford was actually one of her recruits, she had no intention to get him off the hook just like that.

Luckily for her, Skyhold hosted a spymaster whose assistance would be indeed helpful. Yet, as she entered Leliana's den, the woman was nowhere to be seen.

Irritated, the warrior looked around, until a familiar voice behind her startled her.

"Seeker," Leliana said.

Cassandra snorted. No wonder the spymaster was feared in whole Skyhold, acting like that.

"I have a personal request," she said firmly.

Leliana turned around and looked at her, her eyes seeming to dig right into her mind. Maker, sometimes she really wondered what had happened to the woman that had turned her into the person she was now.

Of course, she had heard stories about Leliana and the Hero of Ferelden, stories of adventures, even stories of unrequited love, but Cassandra had never been much of a gossip girl.

"And that would be?"

"You have to be discreet. No one must know," Cassandra said.

"I can assure you, I am always discreet," Leliana replied casually, but there was an expression in her eyes Cassandra didn't like. Not at all.

Maybe seeking help from her wasn't the best idea ever. Maybe it was one of the worst she had ever had. But there was no other person in whole Skyhold that could help her without spilling the beans.

"It is about the knight-commander," she said. "I think there is something worrying him and I want to know what it is."

"You mean besides the lyrium withdrawal?"

Cassandra blinked, irritated. "You know of it?"

"I like to know the people I work with."

The seeker glared at her in secret admiration. Maker knew she'd give everything to know just half as much as her, especially about that Quanri. And Madame de Fer. Not mentioning Varric – Maker, why hadn't she left the dwarf alone? Or Sera. Solas... well, everybody she was currently relying on.

"Can you find out?" she asked shortly.

The spymaster nodded her head. "Of course I can."

* * *

Cullen was gladly unaware of Leliana's research. He tried to pass his days by busying himself, giving advice to the Inquisitor, coordinating missions for his soldiers, supervising their training. And the days were mostly okay, except for the sudden breakouts of pain and sweat.

The nights, however... Well, they did not deserve this description anymore. He hadn't really slept in days, the pain and the voices in his head keeping him awake. Some people said you couldn't make it through lyrium withdrawal alive and lately, he was wondering if they were right.

In fact, he knew no one who had ever managed, and he had known some templars who had been just as deep in as he was. Most of them had vanished from the grounds of the earth, probably relapsed and died in a dirty alley.

He hadn't seen the mage, not after their last encounter, but in those sleepless nights, his mind often travelled to that one question he had been asking himself for years: Why always mages? Was the Maker testing him? Or was this simply his weak spot, his blindside?

Amell had been the first, but it had been naive, a schoolboy's crush...

He shook his head. No, he wouldn't blame it on his youth. He had forgotten all his vows, his duties, letting her off the hook easily. As she had helped the blood mage, he should have questioned his feelings, but in his head, he had imagined scenarios in which he defended her against the knight-commander, imagined himself as the knight in shining armour.

As she had sided against him, his feelings had turned into the opposite, a rage and hatred that had lasted until he had stood up against Meredith.  
It had been too late, then. It had been too late from the moment she had left the circle. She had married Alistair, a better version of him, maybe a version he could have turned into if he hadn't been tortured by Uldred's creatures.

In Kirkwall, there had been Hawke. He had been able to keep his professionalism with her, partly because she had been the most annoying person he had ever met and partly because he knew the woman had fallen for her elven companion. Nevertheless, the champion of Kirkwall had haunted his dreams, mocking, teasing, persuading him and he had woken up often, rock-hard and desperate due to his forbidden longing.

And before Hawke, there had been this mage. The only one he had actually ever acted on, but in the completely wrong way.

It was strange, however. While Amell and Hawke had visited him in his dreams, had taunted him night after night after night, Ava had never.

Memories of their intertwined bodies had affected his dreams, but it had always been one of the others playing the female lead, never the mage he had actually fucked.

He told himself this was a good sign; at least, he didn't feel anything for her; at least, he didn't need to feel guilty for loving a mage, but somewhere deep inside him, a beast roared at the sight of her, wanting to grab her, maybe even hurt her to still its desires – and it appeared to become more dominant with the increase of his pain and sleepless nights.

* * *

Two days later, Ava Miller retreated to the battlements at nightfall, unable to sleep and too tired to join some of the other mages for a game of cards, not mentioning she didn't have the money for that. The Inquisition did pay their soldiers and further allies, but gold and resources were short and the pay for common soldiers would have been barely enough to afford food, if the Inquisition hadn't decided to provide them with that.

As she was starring into the darkness, she could hear footsteps coming closer and as she turned, found herself looking at a lately common and unwanted figure.

"Knight-commander," she said.

He did not answer. As she turned her head and glanced at him, she could see the painful grimace on his face.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Does it look like it?" he replied sharply. "What are you always doing here?"

"I am sorry. I wasn't aware the places mages could go were limited," she replied sarcastically.

"When there were circles, everything was limited for mages," the knight-commander replied. "You can't have forgotten that."

"So what? The Inquisitor recruits the First Enchanter and now, this is a circle? Do I need to bow?"

"This is not what I meant."

"Sure," she replied. "You really hate us, do you?"

He didn't answer, which as so often, was just the answer needed.

"Do you mind if I ask you why?"

He looked at her, his face unreadable and hard as stone. "You hate templars."

"Which is actually quite understandable, thinking about all the crap they've done to us in the last few years."

"Your kind hasn't behaved much better."

"I have reasons."

"So do I," he said.

Suddenly, he gasped in pain, his right hand gripping for the stone wall.

"Have you been hurt?" she asked and made a step forward. He immediately raised his left and gestured her to stop.

"It is nothing," he forced out. "Just leave me be."

The woman knew she should just do as she was asked, instead of mingling into something he clearly didn't want her to mingle into. And considering he had just admitted to hate mages, which included her, there was no reason at all for her to worry.

Yet, her grandmother had always told her that magic was a gift; healing magic most of all and that it came with a responsibility, a duty which had to be fulfilled.

And since her grandmother had been the only one in her family not afraid of her, the only one that had always supported her, the only one that had written to her as she had been at the circle, Ava could not ignore that statement.

"Let me help you," she said and raised her hands.

"No, don't..." he contradicted, but she didn't listen.

A grave mistake, she had to realize. In the moment the spell broke free from her body, he jumped at her, pushing her onto the ground.

It was almost as if they were back in that forsaken town, unless this time, his fingers weren't lying motionless at her throat. They were choking her.

She tried to wriggle him off, but his body felt like dead weight upon her, his eyes shining with a deeply manifested rage that scared her more than the fact that the air was sucked out of her lungs.

Stars started to cloud her vision and she felt her body going limp, unable to do anything to save her ass this time.

And then, suddenly, through the fog she could hear a voice saying something completely ridiculous, something like...

"Curly, are you out your mind?" Varric shouted and tried to rip the knight-commander off the motionless body under him. An almost impossible task, given the fact that the man only growled at his attempts.

"Damn it, Curly!" he shouted once more and used a well-placed kick to the knees to get his attention. Gladly, it worked.

The knight-commander raised his hands, backing up from the figure under him, staring at Varric in complete irritation.

"Andraste's ass, what are you doing?" the dwarf asked and bent down towards the woman.

It was one of the mages, he realized, a slender, dark-haired one. He had seen her in the tavern together with a luscious, beautiful blonde.

"Did she attack you?" he asked while he tried to bring the girl back to her senses by slapping her on the cheeks - not the method a gentleman would have used, but according to his experiences, gentlemen were seldom of any use.

"No, I..."

The mage came back to it with a nasty, coughing sound. Her throat was flushed with red fingerprints as she gasped for air with a desperate noise, her face convulsed in a terrorized expression.

"It's okay now, girl," Varric said. "Take it easy. Breath slowly."

The woman curled onto her side, still panting heavily, trying to lift her body from the stone floor.

"Hey, slowly," Varric said and tried to take her arm, but she shook him off. Like a wounded animal, she rose on all fours, crawling away from both of them, finally pulling herself up near the stairs. With unsure steps, still coughing, she stumbled down, out of their sight.

Varric shook his head to the stubbornness, then turned towards Cullen.

"What was that about?"

The knight-commander just looked at him, his face completely pale. "Nothing," he said and turned on his heels.

"Curly, come on, you can talk to me," Varric said, but the man neither stopped, nor reacted in any other way.

"Damn it, thinking I said Fenris and Anders were difficult," Varric growled, retreating to the tavern for a drink.

* * *

Cassandra was reading a report from the Fallow Mire as a voice behind her stopped her in her tracks.

"It is a mage," Leliana said.

"What?" Cassandra asked, startled by her sudden appearance.

"The knight-commander's sorrow. It is a mage."

"A mage? But why?"

"Why he sleeps with her? I am afraid I don't exactly know," the spymaster said casually.

"Sleeps with her? Here?

Leliana laughed out shortly. "There is nothing wrong with that, seeker."

"Of course not," Cassandra said, narrowing her eyes. "I think it is a distraction, but of course, the knight-commander can share the bed with her if he pleases. Why does he worry, then? If it is just this?"

"It appears to be complicated. One of my... sources say he has met that mage years ago, even before Kirkwall, and ravished her on the battleground."

The seeker's eyes widened. "You mean he... raped her?"

"Not exactly... The source said she did seem to enjoy it. She let him live afterwards, though she could have killed him."

"I don't understand," Cassandra said.

A little smirk ran over Leliana's face. "Not all of us indulge in romance, Lady Cassandra."

The seeker felt her face redden and it angered her, probably even more than the spymaster's impudence.

"That doesn't change the fact that she complicates the situation. The withdrawal is already straining enough, I will not have the knight-commander in trouble because of some mage. We have to get rid of her."

"An easy task. I would not propose this at the moment, though."

"This could affect the Inquisition. I will not risk that for one woman."

"You risked a lot more for the Inquisitor," Leliana said.

"The Inquisitor isn't replaceable."

"Remind me to never get on your list of spare parts," the spymaster said, sounding amused. "However, I think we should postpone any action against her for now and see where it leads. And where this trouble comes from. Maybe it can give us a better understanding of his lyrium addiction and help us figure out a way to support his withdrawal."

Cassandra wrinkled her nose. "Maybe you are right. But if it gets worse..."

"If it becomes clear that she is an annoyance, I promise you I will get rid of her. Without needing to hide her body, of course."

Cassandra looked at her sternly. "Fine, then. But do keep me informed."

The spymaster nodded and left. Cassandra shook her head and sighed. Damn the interpersonal nonsense; it was the last thing they needed now.


	5. Adamant

_A/N: I wasn't happy with the pace of this chapter, so I changed it once, twice, forever. I hope you like it._

 _To my reviewers: thank you for commenting! And no, I will not kill her off - we've got so much more digging to do._

 **Chapter 5: Adamant**

There was no time to think. There was no time because the Inquisitor wanted to capture Adamant. There was no time because Cullen had to arrange his troops, evaluate tactics; help the Inquisitor find the best way to enter the fortress.

It was a lie, as so many he told himself lately. He did not want to think about it. His dreams, however, could not be persuaded to let it go. She had played no part there, in his secret cell, but now, she did. Now, her face haunted him as well, changing from the nasty one of the desire demon to hers, changing from him fucking her to him draining the life out of her.

The withdrawal always seemed to find his weakest spot and shattered it. And it was worse than before, maybe because he had actually almost killed her.

He would have killed her, if it hadn't been for Varric. The dwarf, as annoying as he could be, had surprisingly shown up the day after the incident, his voice filled with sympathy, encouraging him to talk to someone, not to him, but to someone, before he fell a victim to madness.

Cullen had not. Could not. Wondered if it wasn't too late already. But while he had awaited Cassandra to storm in and tear him apart for his actions, that visit had never happened. The woman had not told anyone and he did not understand why.

Then again, he understood nothing about her. Why had she let him have her, back then? Why had she let him have her, at Skyhold? Why had she offered to help him?

It did not fit to her hatred for templars and Cullen wasn't dumb enough to believe his looks alone did the trick. Neither did he believe she had any greater feelings for him – how could she, without knowing him? With knowing only the man he had been before, the worst version of himself?

He tried to find the courage to talk to her. To set things right, if possible. But he didn't, because only the truth would have been an adequate explanation. But he had never told anyone about the Circle, about Kirkwall, about anything really that had changed the course of his life. He was ashamed of it. He had let a desire demon into his head, he had done things with that foul creature and his pride and honour had broken to a point where they couldn't be fixed. And then, he had behaved like a fool, trusting in Meredith, when the woman had already lost all her senses.

Oh sure, he kept up his appearance, as he always had, but that only impressed the people around him. He himself, he did not know what to do anymore. How to fight these demons off, how to keep the withdrawal at bay. Therefore, he did what he did best – busy himself with work, ignoring all the alarm signals.

* * *

Ava Miller and the other mages formed a row at Skyhold's courtyard at early dawn. The sun had just risen, its beams still too weak to warm her up. Truth to be told, she was always cold. Susannah said she simply lacked meat on her bones, but these days, Ava was glad no one asked why she was wearing an oversize scarf around her neck.

His fingerprints were still visible on her throat, though the colour had started to fade from nasty bright blue to a darker, less intense shade.

If it hadn't been for the dwarf, she was sure he would have killed her. She didn't understand why, though. The spell she had cast did nothing but ease his pain and he must have known that, since it had reached him before he had thrown her onto the floor. Still, his eyes had been so filled with rage that she doubted he had even realized it.

She shook her head, casting the thoughts aside. This was not the time to dwell on her near death experience. Not with the foreshadow of a gruesome fight.

"Brothers, sisters. The Inquisition has ordered us to help capturing Adamant, the fortress where the corrupted Grey Wardens are currently hiding. I will be honest with you, as I have always been: the chances of our victory are critical and we cannot hope for all of us to come back. Nevertheless, if we don't participate, if the Inquisition fails, I have no doubt that Corypheus will drag us all into the Abyss," Fiona said. "Therefore, I ask you to join this cause, to support the Inquisition as you have done before, to secure our freedom, to save our lives."

Some of the mages applauded. Susannah, however, raised an eyebrow and looked at her.

"I knew we should have run," she whispered. "This is a death trap."

"Why do you worry?" Ava whispered back. "Your ice spells are the most powerful I have ever seen."

"Well, if you stay next to me and use your protection spells, I guess we both will be fine," her friend replied with a grin.

Ava did not believe that, though. The thought of their role at Adamant, the thought of being sent to war once again, frightened her to the bone. Fighting always had, no matter if it had been in the Harrowing, or with the rebel mages.

She knew some people felt excitement before a battle, a rush of adrenaline that made them fiercer, stronger, but she had never experienced that feeling. To her, fighting was nothing but cruelty.

* * *

It was raining as they arrived at Adamant. The last briefing was held at dawn and as it was over, Ava was wet from head to toe, cold creeping through her clothes, her fingers white and almost numb. She didn't have much time to worry about that, though, because the trebuchets blasted the gates of the fortress to dust and all hell broke loose.

Within seconds, she lost sight of Susannah, finding herself in the middle of Inquisition soldiers, demons and wardens.

The soldier to her left was hit by an arrow in the eye and he fell – life and soul lost. There was no way of reviving him. She cast a protection spell around her and the few soldiers in her reach and tried to make out a safe spot, where she could oversee the fighting and help those in need. But the chaos provided none.

The rain had started to increase, shadowing her vision, covering them in mud until separating foe and friend became a bloody mess. She moved forward with the forces, looking out for her friend, but the battlemages had already pressed further and there was no way for her through the enemies to catch up.

Another horde of enemies stormed out of a nearby gate and soldier after soldier fell victim to their vicious assault. She could almost feel how their courage was erased, she could see the soldiers back up in despair, until suddenly, a too familiar voice shouted:

"Soldiers, stand your ground!"

She turned her head into the direction of that voice and even though her throat still hurt, even though her sleep had been interrupted by visions of him strangling her to death, the sight of the commander evoked a feeling of relief.

The soldiers seemed to feel the same, for as he joined them in the fight, they appeared to find new strength, new hope. Yet, their foes were unrelenting; knowing neither fear nor despair.

Her eyes focused on the commander, she realized one of the wardens tried to take him down from behind and without further thinking, she cast a barrier around him. It sprung up around him with a blue light and gave him the time to turn and charge, kill the attacker with a mighty blow. As he turned his head into her direction, something beneath her exploded and swept her off her feet.

For a few seconds, there was only darkness and silence. Then, a heavy pain in her chest set her body in flames and she tried to make out the source through the dust, while a nasty noise rang in her ears.

As the smoke started to vanish, she could see she was bleeding, a splinter of whatever caused the explosion stuck in her chest. She tried to pull it out, but her fingers were slick with cold sweat and slipped off, no matter how hard she tried.

Suddenly, another pair of fingers wrapped around the edge of the splinter and tore it out without further ado.

She cried out in pain, crumpling her body together in a foetal position, a few tears running down her dirty face.

"You have to get up!" a familiar voice said.

She shook her head violently, wishing he would just go away, wishing he would leave her there on the ground until the pain would win her over, drag her into sweet darkness. But of course he had no mercy for her.

"I said: get up!" he snarled, his hands moving under her shoulders, pulling her to her feet.

She stumbled and would have fallen, if he hadn't supported her.

"Damn it, you're a healer! Heal yourself before you bleed to death!"

She looked at his grim face, at his body supporting hers, remembering what happened the last time she had cast a spell in his reach. But his stern gaze and firm grip left her no choice and with the last bit of her strength left, she cast the spell.

It surrounded them both with a flash of white and she could feel his grip at her tighten, but he did not move his hands to her throat, or raise his sword against her. The spell was weak, as weak as she was, but it stopped the blood from running and eased the pain, if only a little.

She freed herself out of his grip and made a few step backwards.

"Get back to the camp!" he said, narrowing his eyes. "And stay alive!"

With those words spoken, he turned around and dived back into the fight, while she fell back, body and mind completely numb

Somehow, she managed to arrive back outside the fortress. A green light blasted through the sky and the sound of fighting still echoed through the air, but Ava did not care. Could not care. A few metres before the camp, her body finally surrendered to the pain and she fell down into darkness.

* * *

They carried her back to Skyhold. They carried her back and tried to heal her completely, but the scar would not vanish and the only one who was powerful enough to manage that was the First Enchanter, but she did not ask her and the scar remained, a nasty red line between her breasts.

Ava did not care. Ava did not care about anything, to be exact. It was as if some part of her had not returned from Adamant. Susannah told her it was probably just shock, but Ava did not know if she was right. The brutality of it all had left her feeling empty and she stayed hidden in her quarters, until even her friend did not know what to do.

There was nothing she wanted but to sleep and forget. She knew that, eventually, she would have to get up and play her little part, but she could not find the willpower to do so. She also knew that if this wouldn't pass, they would probably send her away, but even that didn't do the trick.

Whilst before, the most frightening prospect had been to be kicked out of the Inquisition with no place to go and nothing to do, it now felt as if nothing mattered.

She suspected it was her very own fault, because before, she had always run away when things got bad; she had run away from her family to the circle, she had run away from the circle to a group of apostates and then she had run away from them to the rebel mages. Standing ground had never been her virtue and now it seemed to become her greatest flaw.

* * *

Adamant had been a success, but they had paid a high price for it. Cullen stared at the list of dead soldiers and shook his head in discomfort. If the Inquisition's soldiers continued to die like flies, they would need to look for another alliance.

He sighed and looked outside the window. Night had already fallen over Skyhold and he knew he should try to get some rest, if only it were possible.

The night after Adamant, the nightmares had given him a break, probably due to his exhaustion, but it hadn't lasted. Sleep was still an enemy to him.

He stepped outside of his office and walked over to the battlement, his mind still thinking about their losses, as he spotted a figure standing there.

It took him only seconds to realize it was her and he stopped in his movements, unsure whether to proceed, or return to his tower.

She made the decision for him, as she turned and looked at him.

"Commander," she said.

He made a few steps forward, yet kept a reasonable distance between them.

"You survived," he said, even though he had already known that, even though it was obvious.

"Yes."

"About what I did..." he started, but she cut him off immediately.

"It matters not," she said.

He looked at her, surprised. "I don't understand..."

"I don't, either," she said and stepped away from the wall. "I just... I don't care anymore. I was mad at you, but now I don't feel anything. I thought I was just exhausted, but it isn't... There is just nothing," she said and looked at him. "Is this normal?"

"You're probably in shock," he replied.

"Yes. That's what Susannah said, as well." She looked at the black sky above them and slowly shook her head. "Did you ever feel like that?" she asked.

"What?"

"I mean, you've been fighting battles your whole life. Did you ever feel... like that?"

Cullen didn't know what to say. If he even wanted to say something. But her distance appeared so cold, so desperate, so wrong, that finally, he did.

"Once."

"How did you get over it?"

He looked at her and wondered if she really believed he had gotten over it. Wondered what exactly she believed had made him choke her.

"I don't know," he said.

She nodded her head. "Well, I guess there is no easy solution then, is there?"

And with those words, she lowered her gaze and attempted to pass him, but before she could and before he knew what he was doing, he took her arm.

"Ava," he said.

She stopped and he loosened his grip a little.

"If there is anything..." he said.

She looked up at him and for a fraction of a second, her expression was nothing but despair.

"Take me," she said.

"What?" he asked, but she had already stepped forward, pressing her lips at his, moving her body close to his.

He knew he shouldn't, but even though her eyes were blank, her body spoke to his with the same urgency he had craved from her before. So, he replied to her kiss, his hands moving to her hips, pulling her even closer.

As she broke the kiss, he muttered into her ear. "If you want me to stop, tell me now."

She shook her head, running her fingers down to his breeches, but he caught them there.

"Not here," he said and guided her down the stairs, back into his office.

Her hands still at his hips, he pushed her against his desk and wiped everything off it, a bottle he had forgotten about smashing on the ground. The sound appeared to startle her, but he didn't give a damn about it. With a swift motion, he lifted her up onto the desk and opened the buttons of her coat, taking it off, taking her shirt off.

The nasty scar between her chest stopped him for a second and she looked at him, her eyes still distant.

"I know it's bad," she said, but he shook his head.

He didn't care about her scars. He didn't care about anything, truly, with her body wrapped around him.

"No," he replied and placed his lip at her chest, trailing down right next to the angry redness, sucking at her nipples.

Her fingers were back at his breeches, but this time, he didn't stop her. One of her hand wrapped around him, stroking him while he pulled her pants down and slid a finger into her panties, rubbing her while his lips found hers again.

"Please," she finally let out and he complied immediately, tearing her panties down and pushing inside her swiftly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he started to fuck her eagerly. She was wet, but silent. Too silent for his taste, too silent for his memory.

He pushed her body down completely onto the table and lifted her legs onto his shoulders for a better angle, then pulled out of her completely, before pushing back in with a hard, slow thrust.

She gasped in surprise and he took it as encouragement, continuing to move slowly and steady. Finally, a moan escaped her lips and he increased his speed as he felt her rocking her body with him.

Her moans turned into breathless gasps and his own heart beat hard against his chest as his desire washed him over, forced him to take her harder and harder until she cried out loudly and his own climax ripped through him.

He let her legs down and moved his body above her, holding her still.

She leant forward slightly and kissed him once more, something she hadn't done before, but it felt surprisingly comforting and he found himself running his fingers through her damp hair. This was a tenderness that hadn't existed before. A tenderness he had never thought he wanted from her, but now felt so good he could do nothing but indulge in it.

For a second, he wished they would have begun it like this. For a second, he wished he would have taken the time to study her body, caress her everywhere before taking her slowly, like it was supposed to be.

But she eventually freed herself from his embrace, getting off the desk, looking for her clothes. He pulled his pants back up and looked at her.

"Did that... help?" he asked.

She looked at him. "I... I don't know. I think it did. At least, a little."

He nodded his head and picked up her shirt from his desk, holding it out to her.

"I think the First Enchanter would be able to help with that," he said, pointing at the scar.

"Probably. But she scares the shit out of me."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem easy to scare to me."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "You're kidding, right? You scared the shit out of me, too, back in that town."

"It didn't seem like it."

"Why do you think I let you have me? I was negotiating. My body for my life."

He stared at and suddenly, everything felt wrong. Seeing her naked, thinking about what they had just done... It lost its appeal in a fraction of a second.

He turned around and walked towards the door leading to his quarter. "I suppose you know how to get out," he said, then pushed the door open and shut it loudly behind him.

 **Liked it? Hated it? Please take a second to leave a review! I appreciate it.**


End file.
